Grimm Loops
by slayst
Summary: The Grimm universe is now activated... welcome to the Infinite Time Loops.
1. Chapter 1

No-one knows what caused the initial problem with Yggdrasil, the World Tree. All that is known is that at some point in the multiverse's "past", Yggdrasil was damaged. In order to stablize the various universes, the gods (or Admins) put them into a "safe-mode" of sorts, where time is looped during an important portion of the universes time-line.

Originally, seven universes were started looping by the Admins: Ranma 1/2, Harry Potter, Naruto, Bleach, Evangelion, Sailor Moon, and Slayers. Other universes followed afterwards.

We're now long after the event known as 'The Crash', and long after The Doctor's own Awakening.

Wesen, Grimms, dusty old diaries and rusty weapons?

Welcome to the Grimm Loops.

* * *

1.01

* * *

"HAAAAA!"

A bad dream. It had to be.

How else could he be living such a bizarre situation?

A horrible nightmare was surely the only explanation as to why Nick Burkhardt, Grimm and detective of the Portland PD, was now in his house, in his very bed, screaming his lungs out with a seemingly peaceful Juliette Silverton at his side.

"HAAAAA!"

"Nick. Nick, calm down."

Calm down? Ha, as if he could. His ex-girlfriend had been turned into an evil Hexenbiest bent on killing him, his friend had shot her in the chest with a crossbow, and he had held her cooling corpse in his arms before being knocked out cold by mercenaries.

"It was a nightmare, nothing else. See, everything's fine." tried the young woman.

What the hell? She was being reassuring now? What was she playing at?

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" he yelled, knocking her hands away.

"Nick?"

The Grimm hadn't seen such a frightened expression on her face in a looong time. But she was merely acting, that's what Hexenbiests did, after all.

"What happened to Trubel? And how come you're still alive? Is that some new Hexenbiest thing?"

"What? Nick, you're not making any sense. Please, calm down."

"Why did you stay? You wanted to finish the job?"

"I… I don't understand."

In a roar, he jumped at her, grabbed her wrist and pinned her to the wall.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND? AFTER EVERYTHING YOU DID… EVERYTHING YOU TRIED TO DO! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND?"

Juliette looked beyond frightened now, her whole body shaking. Nick didn't ease his grip one bit.

She wasn't the Juliette he knew anymore, she was a beast. And she would _woge_ , any moment now…

Any moment now…

Why hadn't she _woge_ already? Shaken as she appeared to be, surely she would have _woge_ by now, either through fear or to blow his head up _._ So why hadn't she?

"Nick… please..."

Her voice was so haunted, her eyes so terrified…

"Ju… Juliette?"

She was weeping now.

"I… I..."

It was a mess. His memories were telling him to be wary of her, but his eyes were seeing nothing but his panicked and so human ex-girlfriend…

Human, she did look human. And maybe… she was? But how would that be possible? She was _wesen_ now, and not even his blood could undo her transformation.

Yet, somehow, she was human once more. He could see it now.

He let her go and took a step back.

She dropped to the floor.

"I… I'm sorry."

She didn't respond, merely kept on sobbing softly.

"Juliette, I… I'm… sorry. I don't know what happened..."

"You… you lost it." she sobbed, slowly calming down. "That happened."

"I know that. It's just… I don't understand why I'm here. Or what happened to Trubel, or to you. I mean, you're human now and…"

"… Of course I'm human. What did you take me for? A big bear?"

She tried to smile, but it still came out wrong.

"You don't look like a Jägerbar to me." he replied, just as badly failing at masking his malaise.

"Jäger what? And who's this… Trubel? You mentioned her twice."

"Jägerbars? Bear _wesen_? Crazy about hunting and their inner beast?"

From her look, she had no idea as to what he was talking about. But how could that be?

"Wait, Trubel, you don't remember Trubel?"

Juliette shook her head.

"You remember Monroe? Or Rosalee?"

He got another negative answer.

"That… can't be good. Someone or something took your memories again –"

"Again?"

"– and if it was powerful enough to suppress your other side..."

"My _other_ side? W… What are you talking about?"

"Juliette, look. I'll explain… later. Just, wait. Give me a second, please."

She didn't give her agreement, but didn't refuse outright either.

Seeing this as a 'I'll-wait-and-see' kind of situation, he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

"I'll call Monroe, he'll know what to do. Or we'll figure it out. We always do."

He was about to unlock the screen, when his eyes fell upon something that made him stagger.

"This… can't be."

"Nick?"

"The date..."

14th of September… 2011.

Nick's head started to spin and he dropped on the bed, eyes glued to the new anomaly.

"Something … is _really_ wrong here."

* * *

Monroe was a busy Wieder Blutbad.

It was six thirty in the morning and he was right in the middle of his Pilates. He had to stay fit, after all. Diet, drugs and Pilates, that was the strict regimen he had followed for year now, and the one he'd found to work best on his Blutbad issues.

Hence why he was rather grumpy when his phone suddenly ringed, interruption his extremely important exercise.

"Monroe." he grumbled.

"Hey, Monroe. I need your help."

Not at six thirty in the morning, he didn't.

"Who's this?"

"This is Nick Burkhardt, we work together… Or we will, I guess." said the guy in a worried voice.

Great, a nutjob.

"Can't wait for it. Look, I really don't have time for that kind of nonsense. Have a nice day, pal."

"Waitwaitwait; Your name's Monroe, you're a clockmaker and a Blutbad. Your parents' names are Bart and Alice, and your grandfather would start to speak High German every time he had a beer. You once had a fling with your friend Angelina Lasser, the two of you spent a whole month naked in the woods. When you were six years old, you..."

"Okay, stop right there. I'm listening. Who are you, and how can you know all of this?"

"My name's Nick Burkhardt, I'm a Portland PD detective and… I'm a Grimm."

Monroe almost choked.

"What do you want?" he managed to ask, now wary of this Nick Burkhardt character.

"Don't be so apprehensive, I'm not after you Monroe, I know you're reformed. But I badly need a friend right now, and… you're the first one that came to mind. Look, I know it'll sounds crazy, but I think I time-traveled, or saw the future or something. Do you know any _wesen_ that can induce that kind of effect?"

Time-travel? Was that guy serious?

"… There's no such thing as time-travel."

"Then I'd really liked it if you could explain what's happening to me. Not an hour ago, I was watching my ex-girlfriend die with crossbow bolts in the chest, and now she's beside me looking like a deer caught in the headlight of a truck."

The guy sighed and seemed to calm down a little.

"Look, can we just come over? I don't know if I'm hallucinating, or if I'm actually in the past, but I really need to sort this out and I know you can help."

Monroe let his eyes wander around the house, in the hope of seeing an acceptable answer suddenly pop out of nowhere. It didn't come.

How what he supposed to answer that?

On one hand, that Nick was a freaking Grimm, and he knew too well what Grimms did to _wesen._ His great-grandma would have attested to that, if she'd still been alive to do so. And that particular Grimm was beyond nuts.

Time-travel, seriously.

On the other hand, he knew things he wasn't supposed to know.

The Blutbad sighed.

"Grab donuts on your way."

"We will. And Monroe… thank you."

* * *

The door bell ringed loudly, the sound almost deafening in the quiet house. The Blutbad, hand on the handle, took a deep breath to steel his resolve. He opened the door swiftly and took in the appearance of his guests.

A guy, obviously the Grimm, wore a jean and a common leather jacket. He had a rather handsome face – or at least, he believed Angelina would have called it that.

The woman was a beauty, with long flowing hair and a delicate face, but something in her eyes was dulling it. She looked … unsettled.

"Monroe, good to see you." said the Grimm, visibly relieved.

"Same here… I guess." tried the _wesen_.

"Well, I'm Nick, but you must remember that from –"

"Your call, yes, I remember. And you are…?"

"Juliette Silverton." she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Juliette."

"You too, Monroe."

An uneasy silence started to settle down.

"Oh, here are the donuts." suddenly said Nick, presenting a paper bag.

"Right, donuts. Well, come in. Anyone up for a fresh-pressed coffee? Guatemalan –"

"Highlands, crafted and pressed, very robust. Yes, thank you."

Okay, the guy even knew his coffee… that wasn't creepy alright.

"What about you, Juliette?"

"I'm good, thank you." she politely declined.

"Two coffee then. Sugar?"

"One, thanks. And you take two, plus honey when you're drinking past 10 p.m."

"… I told you that?"

"No, Rosalee did."

"Who?"

"Rosalee Calvert, your wife."

"MY WHAT?" yelled the Blutbad, coming face to face with Nick and unintentionally _woging_ in the process.

He saw the guy's eyes turn a deep black, darker that anything he'd ever seen, and took an instinctive step back.

"Right, black eyes. Sorry about that."

"Black eyes?" asked Juliette.

"It's what _wesen_ see when I watch them _woge_. It's a Grimm thing."

"Right… Grimm."

Monroe swallowed nervously and managed to avoid emptying the coffee on the floor.

"He told you?"

"In the car. Pretty sure she doesn't believe me though."

Juliette remained silent.

The Blutbad decided to disarm this bomb that had just been activated in his living room.

"Do you want me to…?"

"Rosalee would be smoother, but… that would help, yes."

"Okay… wow, didn't do that in a long time. Juliette, look at me for a minute please."

* * *

That particular neighborhood was well known and appreciated. The residents were friendly and the place was clean and calm.

"HOW MY GOD!"

Okay, not so calm anymore.

* * *

"YOU'RE…YOU'RE A..."

" _Wesen_. More precisely, I'm a Blutbad. And now that you saw me, you're a Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen. Now please, lower your voice, or Nick's colleagues will come around to arrest us all."

She closed her mouth in a snap, but he could tell that she was about to burst again. Now, to skillfully changed the subject…

"By the way, Nick, how do you know about the eyes? You can't see them yourself, right?"

"I can't, but Trubel was curious and Rosalee told us. Rosalee's a Fuchsbau, by the way. She's in Seattle right now, but she should come to town in a few weeks."

He would get married… to a Fuchsbau…

Awesome, his parents would kill him.

"Nick, what's a Fuchsbau and who's this Trubel?" interrupted Juliette, voice still shaky. At least she was interested, good point that.

"A Fuchsbau is a kind of foxy _wesen_ and Trubel's… another… Grimm. Look, it's an awfully complicated story and we can get to that later. Can't we just try to focus on the time-travel/vision thingy for now?"

Juliette looked as if she was about to protest, but she remained silent. Monroe took a sip in his coffee and sighed.

"Sure, we can. Soooo, Nick, you somehow lived or remember the future?"

"Yes."

"And you have no idea of how you returned or what could have provoked those visions?"

"Apart from a new Grimm ability, or a Hexenbiest's spell, no, I don't."

"Well, it can't be either of those. If Grimms could time-travel or see the future, their would be fewer _wesen_ out there.

And if the Hexenbiests could, there would be fewer of… pretty much everything."

"Not extremely reassuring, but true."

"Did anything weird happened before you went to bed last night? Or right before you… came back?"

"Last night, I… honestly can't remember."

Well, that could be proof that he'd time-travel and not simply had a vision. That is, if he remembered the future better than he remembered his past.

"As for then…"

Weird, a nervous Grimm. With more than a hint of anger too. He would probably break his cup if he kept squeezing it like that.

"My mother had been killed, Diana sold to the Royals, and Trubel had just shot Juliette with a crossbow. Mercenaries chloroformed me or something, and when I came out of it, I was in my bed."

His mother? Diana? His friend Trubel had shot his girlfriend? And mercenaries had abducted him?

"We're not exactly sure what Diana is capable of yet, but I wasn't anywhere near her, so that one's out. And a dead Grimm won't do anything but awoke the ability in another family member."

"Oh, I heard about that. Guess that's out too then. But it could be an action on your part, right? You saw your girlfriend being killed and you were drugged, so you Grimm-ed your way back to her? Somehow?"

"Ex-girlfriend..." whispered Juliette.

"What?"

"Earlier, on the phone. You said that I'd been shot, but you said ex-girlfriend."

"I… yes, I did. You and I separated."

The woman eyes hardened for a split second.

"When, and why?"

"In a few years, and we… couldn't be together anymore. Something … bad had happened, and it wasn't safe for either of us to be around the other."

The Grimm seemed sad now. That separation had been a rough one.

"Define something bad."

"Juliette..."

"Nick."

"Please..."

"Nick!"

The Grimm grimaced, but answered anyway.

"You… turned into a Hexenbiest and it got to your head. You got my mother killed, sold Diana to the Royals, and you tried to..."

"Kill you." she finished in a low voice laced with understanding. "That's why you reacted like you did when you woke up…"

Oh yeah, rough.

Still, it explained why the other Grimm had shoot her. Something still bugged him though. So he expressed it.

"A human was _turned_ into a freaking Hexenbiest? How's that possible?"

"It's..."

"Another of those long stories of yours, I guess?"

Nick nodded.

"I lost my powers and she took a potion to help me regain them. The potion had this… side effect."

"I tried to kill you?" mumbled Juliette.

She was still stuck on that one huh? Not unexpected, good news kept piling up after all.

"No, you didn't. That thing, it… it wasn't you. Not anymore."

Great, now those two were having an open hearted moment on his couch.

"You know, it's not like it matters anyway."

"What do you mean, Monroe?"

"Nick, you time-traveled, or saw the future, or whatever. You know what's going to happen, right? So just prevent it."

The Bludbat would forever treasure the memory of a gobsmacked Grimm.

* * *

Ever since they'd left Monroe, which they'd done as soon as the Blutbad had stopped asking questions about Rosalee and the Grimm/Blutbad unorthodox collaboration, Nick had started to hope.

Could it truly be that simple?

If he was in the past, or if he had seen the future… could he just change it… on a whim?

But it wasn't that simple. He would be interfering in the lives of dozens of persons to avoid or accelerate their demise, that would be like playing God. And who was he to decide who lived and who died? He was a cop, and a Grimm. He was a guardian, not a freaking executioner!

And to make matters worse, the more things he changed, the least his memories (or experiences) would be accurate.

If he prevented Frederick Calvert's murder, Rosalee would never inherit her brother's shop and would have no reason to come to Portland. It would immediately invalid all her help in other cases, and his friends would never get married.

If he managed to avoid loosing his powers to Adalind, Juliette wouldn't have to save him and change into a Hexenbiest in the process… but his… his son would never live.

His son, he'd forgotten his son… Adalind would skinned him alive if she ever learnt about this.

His yet unnamed son… and he would never get to know him now…

"Nick?"

Juliette's voice startled him nicely and he almost sent the car into a tree.

Damn, he'd been driving on instincts for the past ten minutes. What a responsible thing to do, mister detective…

"Sorry, I was… thinking."

"I saw that. Is something wrong?"

"Something more, you mean?"

Her small laugh sounded terribly hollow.

"Yes, something more."

Nick hesitated. Should he tell her?

Of course he should, Juliette was his girlfriend, and he'd already told her pretty much everything. But that was pretty close to the 'you turned into a monster and tried to kill me' on the scale of bad news. And this son wouldn't be conceive this time around, so it wasn't _that_ important… right?

Who was he kidding, it was the most important thing ever.

"… A son… I'm suppose to… I was about to have a son."

Juliette didn't try to murder him on the spot, that was good.

But her hands had still gripped her seat and her knuckles were slowly turning white.

"The mother is… was, Adalind Schade, a Hexenbiest. She used a polymorphism potion and tricked me into thinking she was you. She took my powers away… but she made a mistake."

"So you… didn't love her."

"Not one bit, no" he hastily answered. "I _lost you_ because of her… but, she got tricked all around the clock too. She lost her powers, Diana – that's her daughter, had her with Captain Renard, my superior at the precinct – was kidnapped… Adalind turned friendly enough in the end… and as much as I hate how it happened, that baby..."

"Was still yours..." she concluded, sounding more tired by the minute.

They both fell silent for a while.

"When did our lives become a soap opera?" finally asked Juliette with a sigh.  
"… When I became a Grimm."

* * *

Two days had passed since the Anchor's Awakening – not that he knew that terminology yet – and life around the Buckhardt/Silverton residence had been awkward, to say the least.

Juliette had spent every waking moments asking Nick questions about… pretty much every Grimm-related subject she could came up with. He had answered as best as possible, even replaying scenes and drawing _wesen_ when needed _._

He'd described his first encounter with Monroe, and how the Blutbad had quickly turned into a friend. How his cases had kept going deeper and deeper in supernatural territory, especially after his discovery that Renard was royalty (and a half-Hexenbiest). How Hank at first, then Wu, had learnt about the supernatural. How he'd lost his aunt to later be reunited with his mother, only for her to go after the coins, and later into hiding with Diana. How he'd found out that being a Grimm came with a bigger responsibility, one of instruction, when he'd met Trubel.

The second day had been coming to an end when, with reluctance – and a little help from a glass of whiskey –, he had finally told her of her own part in this crazy story.

How she'd believed him to cheat on her at first, because of the secrecy he'd maintained around his Grimm heritage. How she'd learned about his powers a first time, only to get her memories stolen, regain them at a later date and help him when he'd been at his lowest. How she'd changed and how they'd broken apart. How she'd burned down centuries years old Grimm books, weapons and ingredients… how she'd been killed by crossbow bolts to the chest, courtesy of Trubel.

After all those revelations, Juliette – who had downed a couple of drinks herself – had locked herself in the bedroom for a few hours, to cry or mull things over, Nick wasn't sure.

She'd come out of this resolute, and for a split second, the Anchor had to wonder why _she_ wasn't the Grimm.

"We're telling everything to your aunt when she arrives, to see if she recognizes the phenomenon, and have her call your mom. Also, I'll look for Rosalee's number in Seattle, and you'll bring Hank and your captain over for dinner tomorrow, we want them in. Especially since you'll use police resources to locate Trubel and we'll need help dealing with the Royals. I say we let Wu out of it for now, his first exposure to all this was a fluke and he's probably better off not knowing."

The _wesen_ wouldn't have stood a chance.

* * *

Everything happened really fast.

First had come the dinner at their house where Nick had, at Juliette's insistence, invited his Captain and his partner. Explaining the visions/time travel to Captain Renard had been strangely easy. Revealing this AND the _wesen_ community to Hank, not so much. There had been a good amount of disbelief, quickly followed by screams when the half- Hexenbiest had _woged_ to convinced the man. Nick even had to restrain Hank, least he would have stabbed his chief with the silverware.

Things had worked out in the end, but convincing Rosalee had been like a walk in the park in comparison. Juliette had simply called her, calmly explained that her boyfriend was a time-traveling Grimm who would become her friend after her brother's death, and that they could now prevent that terrible event. She'd also dropped a few names and facts only known to the Fuschbau, for good measure. The very next morning, the apothecary-to-be had invited herself at her brother's shop for an undetermined period of time.

This unlikely group of unlikely individuals decided to take a few days off and used that time wisely, going over _wesen_ lore and legends… finding nothing regarding such an event. Renard had also initiated searches at the precinct, but they hadn't gotten any results either. Trubel was still on the run, and they had no lead on her current location.

Things got really ugly three days later, when Marie Kessler came to town. She had had Hulda on her trail for days now, and that had rendered her slightly paranoid. So when she had walked into a living room occupied by her nephew, two humans, a Blutbad, a Fuchsbau, and a half-Hexenbiest, she had understandably lost it and reached for a blade.

As a result of the quick yet brutal confrontation, Hank had had his shoulder dislocated after being slammed into a wall, while Monroe and the Captain had gained a few new scars and bruises before Nick finally managed to incapacitate his aunt. On a completely unrelated note, Juliette would decide to replace the furniture as well as a few doors in the next couple of days.

Visions/time travel explanations had been provided again, with hidden knowledge presented as evidence. Mary had simply nodded and accepted her nephew's story, claiming that her life as a Grimm had made sure that nothing would surprised her ever again.

She'd also immediately offered to help him write a joined mail to his mother. They really needed her in Portland, but her sister wouldn't believe any word Nick would say, unless Marie was there to corroborate them. Even with that, the two of them were pretty sure that when she would come around, Kelly would introduce herself with a loaded shotgun. She was just like that.

Aside from the family drama – more of it, really – Marie had also brought something else to Portland. Knowledge, and troubles. The trailer was back, and while the three cops discreetly dealt with Hulda, the others had dived head first into the Grimm library.

The centuries-old grimoires and diaries contained extensive knowledge on the supernatural, gathered preciously by generations of devoted Grimms… but nothing on visions of the future nor time travel.

After days of fruitless researches, it was unanimously decided that, shall Kelly Burkhardt proved just as unable to help, the shock team would be sent to Adalind and her mother. Hexenbiests were admittedly the least likely origin for this phenomenon, but no lead could be left unexplored.

The supposedly dead Grimm assaulted Nick's house the next week, shotgun in hand. That had gotten a good laugh out of her sister and son. Juliette had just wondered if insanity was yet another power that came with the job.

It had taken almost twice as much time as the others – all the others, combined – to convince Kelly, but they'd managed it. The woman had sadly no idea of what could have affected her son in such a way.

The following night, the Schades had received a visit from a Blutbad, a Half-Hexenbiest, and three pissed Grimms. Threats were exchanged, a few ribs were broken, and apologies were ultimately presented once it became clear that they had no part in this. The two women had then joined the little group of misfits. Reluctantly at first, only driven by their curiosity and thirst for knowledge, they'd quickly integrated themselves.

It was a good thing, at it prevented a good number of problems that would have otherwise appeared in the near future, but it still left them all with an unexplained temporal event.

In a last effort to give a sense to this, theories were swapped, stories related, myths explored more in depth… and all were quickly discarded.

If they'd agreed that Nick had more probably time traveled than experienced visions, as he had clearer memories of the future than of the weeks preceding his 'return', nobody had the slightest idea as to why it had happened, nor how it was possible.

In the end, they all decided to see it as a second chance, a way to right the wrongs, to prevent many deaths – including their own for four of them.

When the group put an end to their daily meetings, they did so with a smile.

Nick, Juliette, Hank, and Monroe returned to their ordinary not-so-ordinary lives.

Rosalee moved from Seattle to Portland. She began to assist her brother at the shop, and convinced him to cease his more questionable activities. Her weekends began gradually invaded by a certain Blutbad, but she never complained about it.

Marie Kessler and Kelly Burkhardt disappeared once again, but left business cards with their email addresses and phone numbers behind, eight of them.

Captain Renard and Adalind Schade hooked up once more, liking the idea of a little Diana Schade-Renard making their lives a living hell. Catherine Schade couldn't wait to meet her granddaughter.

Theresa Ruble was finally located two months later, brought to Portland, and seemingly adopted by Nick and Juliette.

For once, life was good.

* * *

Nick Burkhardt Awoke from his slumber, alone, and if he trusted his memories, in a bed recently deserted by a Hexenbiest named Juliette Silverton.

He screamed.

* * *

1.02

* * *

It was a nightmare.

A twisted and horribly dark nightmare.

Nick Burkhardt was somehow stuck in a time loop, resets happening every time he died – usually in gruesome ways – and dumping him at a random point in the past, mostly around the time he'd first discovered his heritage as a Grimm.

He always tried to change things for the best, but no matter what he did, it just kept on going awry. He'd already lost the persons he cared about in dozens of different settings – Juliette and his mother more than any other.

What frustrated him to no end was the lack of explanations regarding this phenomenon. He'd beaten hundreds of _wesen_ to a pulp, traveled the world to gather Grimms' archives, and he still had no clue as to why this was happening.

Another point that irked him was the impossibility to keep anything from one reset to the next. Only his mind traveled, not his body, and it meant that every artifact, weapon or diary he found, had to be found again with the next reset.

And the icing on this shitty cake was his current case.

After all those resets, he was pretty much able to identify a _wesen_ type of murder from miles away. He knew what kind of creatures dealt what kind of damages, and could place a potential _wesen_ in among the suspects without even having to see them _woge_ simply based on their general behavior.

When the case proved ultimately impossible to deal with in a traditional way, he assumed the Grimm outfit and knew what arsenal he needed to fight back with.

But this case… he'd never seen anything of the like before.

A plane had plummeted to the ground, and the pilot had be found burnt to a crisp seventeen miles away from the crash site. Of the other passenger, a Penny Dessertine, there had been no traces.

Nick had first attributed it to a Dämonfeuer, but that would have only explained the charred corpse, not the missing girl. That particular _wesen_ liked to hoard large amount of copper, they were not into kidnapping.

Of course, she could be in hiding, if she was the Dämonfeuer. The boyfriend would have tried to force himself on her and she'd defended herself, crashing the plane and later turning him into a human torch. But the family proved to be non- _wesen_ and Penny wasn't adopted. The body wasn't even covered in the traditional inflammable acetone Dämonfeuer produced from human fat. Even worse, he'd discovered that two other girls had disappeared in the same fashion around town, in impossible unreachable places.

So when Hank received a call from the hospital informing them that Melissa, Penny's sister, had just been attacked, Nick became rather… fidgety. That new _wesen_ had already taken three victims, and now attacked a third. It was time for that monster to face the Grimm justice.

The Grimm made his way to the young woman's room and found her already engrossed in a discussion with two men.

"What attacked you, Melissa?" asked the first one.

"You won't believe me… the doctor didn't." she replied, fear laced in her voice.

"We're not doctors." said the second one. "You can tell us."

The two men were wearing expensive suits that screamed 'special agents', but Nick was the lead detective on the case and knew that those men couldn't possibly deal with a _wesen_. No matter how reassuring the tall guy was behaving toward Melissa, he decided to intervene.

"Excuse me sirs, Detective Nick Burkhardt, Portland PD. May I know why you're interrogating my witness?"

They were startled for a split second, and the smaller one even made a move for his gun. The taller one recovered quickly though, and smiled at him. He fished for a badge in his inner pocket, and presented it to the Grimm.

"Special Agent Bonham, and this is Special Agent Copeland. FBI."

The FBI?

What were they doing here?

"And what do you want with my case?"

"Your case? Wow, possessive much." joked Copeland.

"Yes, I am. Now, either explain yourself, or leave."

"Sorry Detective, we didn't want to overrule you." apologized Bonham. "Truth is, we believe that the man who attacked Miss Dessertine here may already have acted in a number of other city around the country. We can already tie him to three disappearances in Portland, including Miss Dessertine's sister, and his _modus operandi_ qualify him for twenty to twenty-seven other kidnappings."

The number got a wail out of the bedded girl.

"Hey, don't worry there. We'll find your sister and get the bastard, everything's gonna be fine." said Copeland in a soothing voice.

The man was a weird agent, but Nick had to recognized that it worked. Melissa calmed down instantly, as if her fears had been sucked out of her.

Agent Bonham smiled and turned back to Nick.

"Look Detective, we're not gonna steal your case, but we studied the guy, we can help."

The two looked pretty determined.

Nick saw that they would work on the case, with or without his approval…

"Fine, you're in. One of you stay with me on the field, the other can join my partner, Hank Griffin, at the precinct."

"Dibs on the field." the agents said at the exact same time.

They glared at each other for a minute, and a silent message seemed to pass between them

… they began to play roshambo.

"Ro-Sham-Bo! Again. Ro-Sham-Bo! Again. Ro-Sham-Bo!"

Melissa Dessertine laughed lightly at their antics, and it was enough to make them stop.

"Okay." sighed Bohnam. "I'll handle the paperwork."

"Don't sulk, research is your thing." said Copeland with a smirk.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Nick could already feel the incoming headache.

* * *

A giant bat, Melissa Dessertine sworn she'd been attacked by a giant bat. And of course, he knew of no _wesen_ looking like this and capable of turning men into ashes. Murciélagos _were_ giant bats, but they weren't capable of flight, and their sonic blasts couldn't flash-fried a human.

As irritating as this mess was, there was still one good point with this situation. Agent Copeland, even though he'd appeared childish and rather unprofessional at first, was a good agent. He knew when to speak and when to stay silent, what words to use in order to ease the victim, and he'd asked relevant questions.

They had learnt that the link between the girls was purity. They had all be virgins, except for Melissa, whose life had thus been spared.

Her ring had also been stolen, but it had been gold and not copper. Nick was sure that it wasn't a Dämonfueur, but it could be something distantly related. He would have to look into it.

But to do that, he would have to ditch his new sidekick.

The Grimm entered the precinct and made a bee-line for his desk.

Hank and Agent Bohnam were nose-deep into their respective computers, occasionally dropping comments on a case or an evidence left behind by the kidnapper.

"So, anything new?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. Detective Griffin located claw marks resembling the ones you mailed us from the hospital in three other cases, so the man's count goes up to six acknowledge kidnappings. That's pretty much it."

"And what about the ring? Any other thefts?" intervened Copeland.

"Not that I can see, no. It's still possible that he stole from his other victims, but we can't confirm that."

Nick sighed.

"Back to square one then..."

"Pretty much… though it's funny, if I didn't know any better, I would swore the guy's a dragon."

Wait, what?

"Excuse me?"

"Well, It's rather embarrassing but… I'm kinda fascinated with the fantasy role-playing community. I played a few games myself, and the only time other I saw something frying humans, targeting gold and kidnapping virgins like this, we ended up facing a dragon." said Bohnam, slightly ashamed of this hobby of his.

Copeland coughed, and it strangely sounded like "Nerd."

"So what, a dragon's running around Portland?" asked Hank, half-joking.

"No, probably not, but the man could be trying to emulate one. Maybe he even convinced himself that he _is_ one, since he even took the time to craft whatever he used to claw Melissa Dessertine with."

So he'd been right, that new _wesen_ was a distant cousin of the Dämonfueurs. That, or a perfectly human guy had lost it and begun playing with gasoline.

Now he _really_ needed to ditch Copeland.

"Okay, we can look into this. Hank, Agent Bohnam, see what you can find around this dragon mythology. If the guy's acting like one, it could help us predict his moves. Agent Copeland, find any places around Portland where fantasy role-play can be practiced. I want a list of suspects, a long one."

"And what are you gonna do, Nick?"

"I have an informant that know a things or two about mythology. I'll contact him, and see what I can find."

Excusing himself, the Grimm promptly exited the room and dialed a number on his phone.

It rung once… twice…

"Hey Nick, what's up?"

"Hey Monroe, you remember the Dämonfeuers case? I compared them to dragons, and you disproved me, saying that they were just a myth."

"We almost burnt to death, of course I remember."

"Well, dragons may not be as mystical as you first believed."

* * *

In a crappy motel, the kind that wouldn't give a damn if their clients were torturing goats in the chamber, as long as it left no stains on the carpet, an Anchor was massaging his aching head.

That case was supposed to be simple. Dragons kidnap virgins, Winchesters deal with dragons and save virgins, simple.

But this Nick Burkhardt had appeared out of nowhere.

Variant? Baseline cop they'd never come across before, or simply forgotten? Everything was possible, but Dean frankly didn't care. Of course, his idiotic brother did, and had immediately volunteered to help.

Replacing Sherlock Holmes that one time had made Sam even more nerdy… he would probably kick the guy the next time he'd see him around.

Sam Winchester entered the room, which put an end to his brother's plotting against the British detective.

"Thanks Bobby, you're the best." said the Sam, before closing his phone. He then dropped on his bed and grabbed a piece of leftover pizza.

"So?"

"So it's a big nope. Bobby triple-checked, there's no hunter named Burkhardt registered in Portland. Are you're sure that..."

"Yes, I know what I heard. He called some guy named Monroe, mentioned an old case, and dragons."

"I guess he _did_ jump pretty quickly on the idea, when I referenced them."

"So what, he's a new hunter? Like dad at his debut?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Dean."

The looper hummed and returned to his pizza.

"Hey, you think he could be a looper?" he suddenly asked.

Dean's eyebrow rose.

"Where's that coming from?"

"Dunno, just an idea." shrugged Sam.

"I pinged seven times Sammy, seven. Bobby and you were the only answers."

"Well, he could be stealthing."

"Possible, but why would he stealth, and come straight at us anyway?"

"Okay, it doesn't make sense… but he could be new. If he doesn't know how to ping, he can't answer, right?"

"You're moving him from new hunter to new looper in less than five minutes? Careful Sammy, ladies will complain if you're too quick."

"Haha, thousands of loops and you're still hilarious. But seriously Dean, he could be. His emotions at the hospital were right through the roof."

"He has feelings, great. How's that making him a looper?"

"You know which emotion was predominant? Confusion. He wasn't angry at the aggressor, didn't fear for the girl's safety, and had no animosity toward us either, he was just confused."

"It doesn't mean anything, all our hunts are confusing."

"It wasn't that kind of confusion Dean. I think he has some kind of experience with unnatural cases, but this one doesn't match up with what he was expecting. If this is somehow a merged-worlds kind of fused loop, with those dragons being from our branch, he would be understandably puzzled to see a case he's never experienced before."

"Merged loops, seriously?"

Sam just raised an eyebrow, conveying a "Yeah, so what?" to his brother.

"Two branches don't fuse so deeply every other morning Sammy, and I think we would have seen something."

"Not necessarily. People are oblivious to monsters and demons until they're face-to-face with them. If the things he's facing are just as secretive, it's possible we missed them entirely."

"Bobby never miss anything."

"He's only human, Dean."

"What about that loop where..."

"That one doesn't count, and you know what I mean."

Dean pondered it… and sighed.

Sam could be wrong, but he was one hell of an empath – no pun intended – and he had a pretty good intuition.

"Fine, I suppose he _could_ be a looper." admitted the Anchor.

"Wanna bet?" smirked his brother.

"The usual?"

"Yep. Twenty bucks and full control of the radio for an entire loop."

For them, it was pretty much equivalent to a deathmatch.

"You're on."

They shook hands.

"So, how do we do this?" asked Sam "We just walk up to him and ask if his life keeps rebooting?"

"… No, I'll check a few things first, and we're taking him with us when we deal with the damn lizards." he replied, quickly checking the various holy swords in his Subspace Pocket.

It was the Anchor's responsibility to see if his brother's suspicions were correct. And if this Nick Burkhardt had truly faced something akin to a dragon before, he would be able to handle himself.

* * *

Nick was beginning to reconsider his opinion on Agent Copeland.

He had the nagging suspicion that the man wasn't who he claimed to be.

The guy had interrupted him during his investigations, and dragged him all the way to San Francisco to meet a Medieval History teacher.

Doctor Visyak, that was her name, was friendly speaking about draconology with the Agent, and superbly ignoring him. Nick didn't know if he was supposed to feel insulted, or glad to be left out of this mess.

"There's not that many dragon-killing swords left in our world. Five, maybe six, on the planet."

"And you happen to own such a sword, correct? After all, I doubt Bobby would have sent me here if it wasn't the case."

Bobby, Agent Copeland had already mentioned this man several time. A superior, maybe? Or just another masquerade?

"Well, it took me twenty years of researches, and a terrible one-night stand with a European ambassador, but yes, I do own one."

Right, the history teacher had a magical sword in her basement… Okay, that could be true. After all, he himself had priceless artifacts in a trailer.

"Excellent. Can we see it?"

The woman smiled warmly and moved to the door.

"Please, follow me."

* * *

All right, this was getting ridiculous.

"Nice paperweight. How do we get this beauty out?"

A sword in a rock, seriously?

"You must have heard the tales, right? Only a brave knight can retrieve the sword and slay the monster."

"Right… so my colleague can give it a try?"

"Be my guest."

…

"Wait, what?"

"You're up for a free sword, Detective?"

Nick didn't quite appreciate this new development. In fact, he couldn't even believe it.

"Oh no, you can't truly expect me to–"

"Come on Detective, it's gonna be fun. And even if you can't get the toothpick, no big deal, I'll do it for you."

Agent Copeland had apparently decided that it was time for common sense to go out the window.

The guy couldn't possibly be FBI. Nick knew FBI procedure, and that was so, so far from it…

But if that guy wasn't an agent, who exactly was he working with?

The Grimm wanted answers so badly, that his nerves got the better of him.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" he shouted. "You're definitely not FBI, they would never even consider that dragon business and you genuinely believe it. So what, are you a Grimm? Working for the Royals maybe?"

Nick regretted his outburst immediately. Visyak gasped and took a step back, visibly frightened. So visibly, in fact, that he was now seeing her with large bright eyes and a beak.

"Steinadler." he blurred.

The teacher, who had slightly relaxed when Copeland hadn't reacted to her _woge_ , locked eyes with him and gasped once more. She was now beyond terrified.

"Grimm."

He really needed to learn how to contain this habit of naming _wesen_ when he saw them.

* * *

Dean didn't know what to think.

"Stay away."

He had half-expected Burkhardt to blow a fuse, but Visyak freaking out was a surprise.

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

Wait, had she just gone even whiter, simply because the cop had moved closer?

"Stay away from me!"

Okay, that was becoming way too weird, even for him.

The Anchor grabbed a gun and yelled "CALM THE FUCK DOWN!", shooting at the ceiling.

It shut them up quite nicely.

"Thank you."

He lowered the gun, but didn't hostler it yet.

"Now Detective, I have no idea what a Grimm is, and I can assure you that I'm not working for anybody. I'll also be thrilled to tell you who I am and why I believe in dragons… after you get that sword."

"NEVER!"

Wow, the good doctor had to be bipolar or something. She'd gone from scared to pissed in seconds.

"Excuse me?"

"The sword of Bruncvik is pure, and Grimms are nothing but _butchers_. He'll never get it."

The Winchester glanced at the cop.

"Butchers, huh?"

"I'm not that kind of Grimm." said Burkhardt, voice extremely uneasy.

"Well, the sword can't be fooled–" by in-loops means "– so I'll let it be the judge of that. Get to it, Grimmy."

The doctor harrumphed, but didn't comment.

Burkhardt hesitated, but ultimately made up his mind. He grabbed the handle with both hands, put a foot on the stone to steady himself, and… sighed.

"I feel really stupid right now."

"Then pull it out already… okay, that was lewd."

Burkhardt growled.

Dean decide that whatever they were, Grimms had no sense of humor.

"If the sword comes out, you'd better explain yourself… or I'll use it on you."

"Dully noted."

"Good."

And in a swift motion, the Detective pulled with all his might… only to fell on the floor, Bruncvik's sword in hand.

Visyak's jaw followed the apparently pure-hearted Grimm.

Dean grinned

"Well, that's that. Now, who's up for a drink?"

* * *

The atmosphere around the table was tense.

Nick Burkhardt was stirring the coffee he'd been served, sending confused glances at the sword he'd apparently deserved.

The good Doctor Visyak was extremely uneasy, trying to look anywhere but at the weird Grimm on her sofa.

And Dean was being Dean, watching the scene unfold with appreciative eyes and smiling like a loon. When nothing but a few awkward coughs happened in over five minutes, the Anchor lost his grin and decided to make a move.

"So Detective, I believe I owe you a couple of explanations?"

His voice broke the silence and things got livelier in seconds.

"Yes, you do." said the man.

Dean didn't fail to notice that he'd also thrown a sharper eye on the blade.

"Well, since I'd rather avoid getting a sword in the rear, I'll just humor you. Now, as you said earlier, I'm not FBI. My name isn't Copeland either, it's Dean. Winchester."

"Who's your partner then, dear old _Agent Bohnam_?"

Dean smiled at the musicians names' inner-joke.

"That's Sammy, my little brother."

"Impersonating federal agents is a family business then?"

"You could say that." admitted Dean, mirth in his voice. If the guy only knew…

"As I'm sure you know, this is a felony. Now give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't arrest you on the spot, mister Winchester."

"What about coworkers respect? Even though I have no idea of what a Grimm exactly is, I can make an educated guess with what I saw and heard earlier. I have reasons to believe that we're working in the same branch, Detective. We're both hunters."

Burkhardt frowned.

A silent Doctor nodded.

"And what do you… hunt, exactly?"

"Monsters, mostly."

The frown intensified.

"You mean, _wesen_?"

"Never heard that word before. We're more into werewolves, –"

"Blutbaden."

"Ghosts –"

"La Llorona."

"Ghouls –"

"Aswangs."

"Wendigos –"

"Wait, what?"

"Shapeshifters –"

"That's actually a thing?"

"Vampires –"

"Like Murciélagos?"

"Dunno. Do yours suck blood?"

"… I don't think so."

"Then no. Oh, there's also murdering scarecrows, djinns, leviathans, demons –"

"De..."

"Yes demons, and angels. But don't let the name fool you, the little buggers are just dicks. We also faced pagan gods and an evil clown who ate children once. But even more recently, we discovered evidences pointing toward a criminal being an actual honest-to-god dragon." said the Anchor, punctuating his sentence with a pointed look.

* * *

If Nick Burkhardt knew one thing, it had to be that he knew nothing.

He'd repeated his life a good number of times, met many _wesen_ , and actually began to believe himself to be enlightened… but the notes and diaries left by Grimms of the past had referenced so many things, that he'd been forced to take a lesson of humility.

He was now taking another, from hunters of the supernatural way above his league.

 _Wesen_ could be deadly, sure, but the creatures that those Sam and Dean Winchester were fighting on a daily basis were beyond that.

Vampires… shapeshifters… ghosts by the dozen… And let's not forget about the demons and the angels. Their existence basically meant that Heaven and Hell were real, and that God was most probably around, somewhere… Oh, and he was in the sewers with the aforementioned hunters, hunting a dragon.

"That left turn was a mistake Dean." said Sam.

"Of course it was. Why did you make us turn left, Sam?"

"I bloody didn't make us do anything. You turned left on your own."

"Haha, so it's your fault if we're lost."

"I just said the opposite, Dean."

"No, you said that you hadn't done anything to help. If you had, then perhaps we wouldn't be so lost."

"You're being a jerk."

"And you're being a bitch."

The Grimm slowly put his forehead on the dull part of the legendary blade of Bruncvik. The metal was cool against his skin and he sighed in relief.

That was another thing that Nick Burkhardt knew… meeting the brothers was a guaranteed way to get a skull-splitting headache.

* * *

Nick was extremely pleased with his new blade. It was well balanced, long enough to keep his enemy away, and it had the good side-effect of burning dragons on contact.

He surely would have appreciated it even more though, if he hadn't been in a deadly situation.

They'd found the captive girls, but the dragon they'd expected had proved to be here with a brother of his own. So while Sam was getting the hostages to safety, Dean had fended of an opponent and Nick had come up against the other.

The nasty smirk ant malevolent gleam in the dragon's eyes showed that it had no doubt regarding the outcome of this battle. The creature, despite having assumed a human form, was stronger, faster and generally meaner than any human.

Truly, being stuck in a smelly sewer with a mythical creature after your head would have been the definition of a deadly situation… if Nick had been a mere human himself. But he was a Grimm, and it made him stronger, faster, and sometimes a lot more meaner than most too.

Ducking under a nasty burning right hook, he pushed away any thoughts coming from his detective persona, and let the Grimm instincts take over.

Steel met flesh, and the dragon fell to the floor, now a testimony as to why Grimms were also known by another name… _Decapitare._

Nick marked a pause as he looked at the corpse and the blade… then he whistled.

"From now on, I'm getting you in every repeat." he said to the legendary sword, before realizing that it wouldn't answer anytime soon, and that he was just getting distracted, which wasn't a wise thing to do with monsters roaming around.

Not losing any more time, he turned around to look for the other kidnapper. The Winchester was only stalling after all, as he had no legendary sword at hand to deal with the second lizard.

Thankfully, Nick didn't have to look that far. The two fighters had only been in a nearby passageway, not twenty feet away from his own position. What's more, the dragon had apparently lunged at him when he'd seen his brother fall.

The Grimm had no time to react as a red-hot hand with deadly talons came straight at his face, ready to rip it to shreds. The hand closed in on his face… and fell to the ground, cleanly cut at the wrist. The dragon's shout of pain died in his throat, when the same throat – and most of the head – was separated from the beast's body.

Dean Winchester stepped closer to the corpse and calmly cleaned his blade on its shirt. In the meantime, Nick eyes' grown to impossible proportions. That blade… he knew that blade… he was even holding it at the very moment, so how could it possibly be…

Before he could further explore this abnormality, he was witness of yet another incomprehensible phenomenon. The hunter finished his quick inspection of the sword and, apparently satisfied, ungripped the handle in mid-air. He grinned widely when it simply disappeared.

"You said something about 'repeat', right?"

Nick nodded absently, eyes still glued to the patch of air were his weapon's twin sister had vanished.

"Then _I_ owe you some more explanations, while _you_ owe me twenty bucks and new set of eardrums for when that thing Sam calls music will finally perforate mine. But before that let me be the first to congratulate you."

Dean extended a hand, and Nick awkwardly shook it.

"Detective Nick Burkhardt, welcome to the multiverse."

* * *

1.01 - I decided not to use season five, as it isn't complete yet. We'll start seeing events of it when the last episode is aired.

1.02 - It was either that or "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", and I don't know that show enough. Anyway, welcome to the Infinite Time Loops, Nick. Try to stay sane... well, mostly sane, okay?


	2. Chapter 2

Damn, that story was getting rusty. Here, have some new loops.

* * *

01 – Home, sweet home

* * *

In a rather inconspicuous home, in an equally innocent neighborhood, a clock rung loudly. It was then crushed just as soundly.

Nick Burkhardt got out of his desperately empty bed, Juliette having left several days ago, and carried his tired frame to the kitchen. The Grimm brew himself a cup of fresh coffee, and downed it a swift motion to chase away the sleepiness. Strangely enough, he sported a huge grin on his face.

As gloom and desperate-looking as his situation appeared to an outside eye, he was in fact quite happy. For the simple enough reason that he finally had his answers.

It had taken an eternity… okay, more like a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty years, but he knew why those damn time loops were happening.

Reality, with a capital R, was strangely enough shaped in the form of a giant tree, Yggdrasil. Unlike its Norse counterpart, this overgrown plant – which wasn't actually a plant, but rather a pandimensional computer – wasn't interconnecting nine realms, but an infinite multiverse, blessed by billions upon billions of sub-realities, some of them sporting even further divides in dimensions, planes and other stuff. His home universe, the Grimm Branch, was one of those sub-realities.

Apparently, Yggdrasil had been damaged by something, and forced in a safe-mode by the higher gods working on the tree. That meant freezing the worlds in time, until they were fixed enough to be brought back online in a mostly set time-loop allowing for further repairs without running an incomplete reality.

In each world, the tree elected an Anchor, be it a person, object or power, that remembered the resets and could, given enough time, trigger a similar remembrance in other persons, turning them into loopers.

The entire explanation was strange as hell, but given that it had been provided by demon hunters from another reality during what was apparently dubbed a fused loop, it was in the end quite acceptable.

Still, it was strange to hear that a bunch of gods were basically running around doing IT work.

The funny mental picture was disrupted by a shrill ringing. The local Anchor would have gladly ignored it and poured himself another cup of coffee, but his screen clearly identified the caller as Hank and it could only mean that they had a case.

"Hey Hank, what's up?"

"The Captain wants you at the precinct immediately." agitatedly replied his partner."Wu just found a severed head under your desk."

"What was he doing under… you know what, never mind. I'm on my way."

It was difficult, but the Grimm managed to tone down the excitement in his voice.

With the exception of the hunts with the Winchesters, it was his first real new case since the loops had kicked in. And with such a good threat, he couldn't wait to see who or what was after him this time.

* * *

02 – Who you gonna call?

* * *

For the majority of people around the world, the mere idea of the supernatural was totally absurd. After centuries of evolution and scientific studies, that something like magic or spirits could possibly exist was clearly impossible.

Then there were the Wesen and Grimms, who clearly knew better. Yes, most of the tales and legends out there where clearly wrong, but a good portion of them where true in some fashion, created out of wesen encounters. Gods, ghosts and demons were still but hoaxes and myths though.

And then, there was Valentina Espinosa.

The ex-detective was a proud Balam with a solid grasp of reality, but even she couldn't refute what her eyes were seeing.

Standing by the riverbank were the three kidnapped children, two boys and a girl, about to be offered to the waters like sacrificial lambs. Their executioner was there too, in a pale white gown revealing her for what she was… a ghost. La Llorona was an old Mexican tale of an infanticide woman, crying for her dead children and trying to bargain for their souls with the lives of still living kids. That tale had just come to life, right before Valentina's eyes.

The _wesen_ ran to the children at a frantic pace. The Portland Detective Hank Griffin was also moving by her side, with a similar objective in mind. They had to get the kids out of that thing's grasp.

Just as her arms snaked around the young girl's waist, a chant reached her sensitive ears.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas –"

The chanting continued, slowly gaining in intensity, and the Balam could only watch dumbfounded as the ghost began to shriek, her form shifting in quick succession between her human and ghastly appearance.

The Grimm, Nick Burkhardt, reached the final verse of what was clearly a _god damned Latin exorcism_ , and La Llorona dissolved into thin air, washed away by a gust of wind.

And then, the guy had the boldness to shoot down the built up tension with a single phrase.

"Humans aren't for you to toy with. Get a life."

Valentina honestly couldn't tell what was more shocking. The existence of ghosts was a pretty big deal, but a Grimm trying to make a pun sounded even more unbelievable.

* * *

03 – Whistle

* * *

The _w_ _esen_ community was one of heterogeneity, its countless members belonging to a plethora of races whose accidental sighting had inspired myths in societies all around the globe.

Fuchsbau were just unlawfully cute and had been mistaken as harvest gods and trickster spirits more than a few times. Steinadler looked simply regal and had either inspired a good number of leaders or been elevated to the position themselves. Hexenbiests looked just like putrefied ghouls and were your textbook definition of the wicked witch of the west.

And then, there were things like the Jinnamuru Xunte.

That African _wesen_ was your classical insect-based nightmare personified, sporting a fly-like head with faceted black eyes. The evil bugger's only food was equally terrifying, as it literally fed on the tears of its victims. The Jinnamuru Xunte were also unique in the way that they shared their bodies with numerous creatures, namely red worms. The small critters were crawling all around the _wesen_ 's head, turning the brain itself into a black and mushy nesting ground.

The _wesen_ usual hunting tactic was to isolate a human prey and spit worms directly into his or her eyes. The nasty little things would crawl into the skull and slowly eat their way through the eyeballs and optic nerves, slowly inducing blindness. Their entire body was also barbed to prevent any removal.

With the victim efficiently blinded, its tearful conducts would then work at full capacity, providing the _wesen_ with his desired food. If any family, friends or lover was around, they would be attacked too, one after another, like the poor parody of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Sadness brought sadness, tears brought tears, and the Jinnamuru Xunte would be happier with each new victim.

Truly, they were nightmare material.

Grimms, being the brilliant _wesen_ hunters that they were, ha thankfully discovered a few other facts regarding those vile creatures.

One way existed to lessen the damages done by the worms. Their aversion for daylight meant that by merely keep one's eyes open, their progress would be slowed. From three or four hours, the victim would now be able to retain her sight for up to eight hours.

If, during that window a time, the _wesen_ was killed, the victim had a chance to regain their vision. The creature's eyeballs, if removed from his full _woged_ body, could be crushed to form an extract. The resulting fluid would act as an antibiotic and metabolize the worms, partly fixing the eyes with the biological matter.

Even more astounding than a delaying process or a full remedy though, was the additional entry written by one Nick Burkhardt in his ancestors' diary.

If a Grimm was to ever be affected by a Jinnamuru Xunte's worms, his or her hearing would be enhanced as a sort of biological response to the threat. In the event that the beast was stopped and the cure produced before the due timeline, the change would remain and become permanent, effectively turning the Grimm into an even better hunter.

There was but one slight disadvantage…

* * *

An unholy screech resonated around the block, its pitch getting higher with every turn of the murciélago matraca's handle, ultimately shattering every window in the area. Even directed as it was, the sound was too intense.

"I HATE MURCIÉLAGOS!" yelled Nick Burkhardt, local Anchor with way too sensible ears for his taste.

"Tell me about it." whined Monroe, his Blutbad ears being more sensitive and even closer to the device.

Not for the first time, the Grimm vowed to himself that he would find another counter to the bat-like _wesen_ , even if it took him millenniums. And in the meantime, he would just have to remember to carry earplugs around.

* * *

04 – Legacy

* * *

The man bore a look of outrage, mixed with anger. He thought he had those two policemen fooled, they had no way of knowing about the girl in his basement. But then they had come back, guns drawn, and now he had to escape.

The Blutbad charged at the black policeman and threw him to the ground, unconscious. The other cop tried to stand in his way and met his shoulder, impacting the wall. He was still conscious, but had lost his weapon in the process. The _wesen_ grabbed the firearm, making sure that the guy wouldn't retrieve it to shoot him in the back, and made a quick exit.

He was about twenty feet away from the door when the cold feeling of a metal blade entered his neck.

He died instantly.

* * *

Nick was a happy Grimm.

After a good bunch of loops, he now had a subspace pocket developed enough to store a weapon. It was but a simple bladed dagger, no longer that fifteen centimeters, without any proprieties or special features, but it was more than enough. After all, the Anchor was by now skilled in more martial arts and hunting skills than any other being on the planet, and relying on a weapon to defeat his opponents wasn't necessary anymore.

No, this blade wasn't just a defensive measure, it was a promise. The promise of a fulfilled dream. It may only start with that blade, but soon it would be a crossbow, then a mallet, and the first of a long collection of Grimm diaries would come soon enough. He would fill his pocket to the brim and, one day, hold the greatest collection of Grimm weapons, diaries and artifacts. And with the loops, he would enrich that collection even further to encompass every other supernatural-hunting related worlds.

Granted, he wasn't as bloodthirsty as some of his ancestors, but that task was something like a duty of memory, a way to honor them.

With a determined gleam in his eyes, the Anchor walked up to the dead Blutbad and retrieved his dagger, putting it back inside his soul.

One day...

* * *

05 – Mirrored

* * *

Awakening was the act of discovering oneself into a new loop, with a new background history and a set of memory helping the transition along

It was disturbing for every looper, even seasoned ones like the Original Seven. You were happily living your life when suddenly, without any warning, the world was rewritten, time and space turning into mush and your existence being blown around the Multiverse. Most stumbled at the sensation.

And for new loopers, the effect was even greater in that they had no idea of what was happening. They had no knowledge of Yggdrasil or the loops. Their reaction was thus always on of three.

If they were weak-minded individuals, or if the moment of Awakening was ill-timed, they most usually lost consciousness.

Another possible reaction was to stoically accept it all. That mostly happened when the person believed the apparent time-travel or dimension-travel to be either a punishment for discussable past decisions, or a reward for previous good deeds.

And then, there was the third and most common reaction.: a good old fashion freak out.

* * *

That particular Portland neighborhood was well known and appreciated. The residents were a friendly bunch, and the place was clean and calm.  
"WHAT THE HECK?!"  
Okay, not so calm anymore, but given the current situation, that outburst was perfectly understandable.

Monroe, cordial neighbor and honest clockmaker had just Awoken. That, in itself, hadn't caused this shout. Neither had the apparent instantaneous displacement from Rosalee's shop back to his house.

No, it had more to do with the diary he was currently writing in, the pile of other old leathery books all around him, and what looked like an armory filled with gleaming weapons by the table. How he was suddenly feeling less things than usual, his vision impaired, hearing and sense of smell diminished, was adding another layer to this crazy situation.

The implication of it all had downed on the poor man like a vicious hammer and resulted in the aforementioned shout.

It took poor Monroe five minutes of breathing exercises before he was lucid enough to grab his phone and compose a number.

* * *

Nick Burkhardt, Anchor of his section of the Multiverse, was having a field day. Well, more like a field night.

It wasn't that common for him to loop as a _wesen_ , this was merely his third experience. The Hexenbiest had been freaking weird, and he blamed that crazy nutjob Ryan for the Lebensauger.

But as his eyes pierce through the darkness around him, he had to admit that this Blutbad variant was awesome, if only just for the enhanced senses. Sure, the bestial urges and weird red attraction were annoying, but not worst than the zombie-like enraged state caused by the Cracher-Mortel's spit.

He was contemplating going for a run in the forest when his phone began to ring soundly. A distracted look revealed the calling number to be strangely familiar.

Why was Monroe calling him? For that matter, how was he calling him? Their unAwake selves had never interacted before.

"Burkhardt."

"Nick, thank god you're here."

"Who's calling?"

"It's Monroe." replied his friend in a slightly perplexed tone. "Look, I need your help."

Great, he sounded distressed. He wasn't even supposed to know the guy, how was he supposed to answer?

But even as a Blutbad, he remained a cop. It was his duty to help his fellow citizens, even when they were calling him at 3 a.m.

"What is your problem, Monroe?" he asked in as professional a manner as possible.

"I'M A FREAKING GRIMM! Huh… I mean… not that I have anything against you, but…"

Definitely not the answer he had expected, but still an unequivocal hint. His friend had just Awaken, and was now officially his very first fellow local looper.

The Anchor allowed himself a silent victory dance.

Nick calmed down after ten seconds. He needed to know when Monroe was from. They worked together for four years in most loops, and he could be coming from any point of those previous timelines.

"I get it, Monroe." he reassured him. "I think I know what's going on, but I need more details. Care to tell me what you were doing before becoming a Grimm?"

"Well, I was at Rosalee's shop, inventorying a new shipment. Then I just blink and suddenly I'm in my house, surrounded by weapons and writing in a diary about a Coyotl hunt." retailed the usually-a- _wesen_ Grimm. "I'm not even a Blutbad anymore, Nick. Can you imagine how it feels? Not to be yourself?"

"I have a pretty decent idea, yes." smirked the usually-a-Grimm Blutbad, _woging_ just for the hell of it. It wasn't as if his friend could see it through the phone after all.

"Right, your power losses… guess you know how it feels." misinterpreted Monroe. "But Grimms and Blutbaden are two entirely different things. You can see more things than most, but you're still a human at the core. Being a wolf is part of who I am, like, in a physical sense. _This…_ this shouldn't be possible."

"I turned Adalind into a human." pointed out the Anchor.

Okay, now he was just picking on his friend. He would have to apologize… later.

"Hexenbiests are more human that _wesen_ , much like you. I mean, Juliette turned into one and it didn't seem that complicated. But preventing a more bestial _wesen_ to be itself… Trust me on this one Nick, it ain't natural."

He knew about that too? So they had worked together for the entire four years, and mostly in a Baseline way apparently. At worst, they were off by a few days. Time to explain then.

"Look, you being a Grimm when I'm the Blutbad is just Yggdrasil goofing around. That thing is reality itself, so you can't really make more natural than that. But don't worry, it will be over by next loop."

That caused an eerie silence on the line, followed ten seconds later by a small "Huh?".

"Short story, reality is broken and we're stuck in a time loop. Long story is way too complicated for the phone, so I'm coming over."

Receiving no comments or answer for the obviously still shocked new looper, Nick muttered a "See you in fifteen." and hung up. Now he only had to hope that Monroe wouldn't think too much about it and fry his brain before the Anchor could reach his house.

* * *

Two men stood on either side of a closed door, both wanting yet fearing the discussion that would soon happen.

The scene was a strange reflection of another, which had taken place ages ago, in another loop entirely. At the time, a similar yet different _wesen_ had be nervous about the Grimm and his girlfriend coming over to talk about time travel, of all things, while the Grimm himself had felt overwhelmed by his recent Awakening.

The Grimm was once more the overwhelmed one, and the Blutbad here to talk about time travel… except that this time, the roles had been reversed. The guy who, most of the time, had been a Grimm, was now a _wesen_ with a deeper understanding of the impossible situation. The once _wesen_ was now a dreaded hunter himself.

Nick brushed the door bell and was answered by a bang. Monroe's emotions were so all over the place, that he'd thrown the door open with all of his Grimm-enhanced strength, cracking the wall.

The Anchor would have commented on how he wasn't that thrilled about the house falling down on him because of his friend's abruptness, but said friend didn't let him enough time to. Monroe crushed Nick with a bear hug before practically dragging him to his living room.

The temporary _wesen_ was quite amused, but didn't want to let his friend freak out for nothing. It had been amusing while it lasted, but now he had to reassure him.

"Monroe, you have five seconds to release me, shut up, and listen." growled Nick, _woging._ "If you're not sitting in that couch by then, I'm tying you up to a chair and practicing my crossbow accuracy."

To join words and act, he grabbed said weapon and a handful of rope from subspace.

Monroe's eyes widened comically for two entire seconds. He let go of Nick's arm by the third and was in the couch by the fourth.

"Good, then I won't need that." observed Nick, returning the items to his pocket. "So, we should get started."

And so, the Anchor started his tale.

He spoke of the multiverse, contained into Yggdrasil and unexpectedly damaged. Of the Admins, higher gods who had initiated the loops to save existence. Of the numerous Branches on the tree, their Anchors and loopers. Of Baseline, Variants and Fused loops. Of the subspace pocket, loop memories, ping and retained abilities.

Monroe had a hard coming to term with those explanations, but turning them into clockwork-related images seemed to help.

Yggdrasil was mostly compared to a supercomputer, but seeing it as a giant clock worked just as fine. Explaining how the inner mechanisms – the universes themselves – had all been damaged, if not glued or removed altogether, forcing the clockmakers to focus on the remaining pieces – thus creating the loops – until the others could be retrieved, was a proper representation.

Comparing the Anchor to a serial code branded on a cog was a bit more obscure, but it worked nonetheless. After all, without a proper designation, a mechanism couldn't be identified and was thus impossible to use or repair.

Baseline was easy, it simply was an unblemished cog, ruby or spring, from that time when the clock had still been working properly. As for the Variants, they could be seen as an attempt by the clockmakers to use a similar yet different piece of clockwork, to try and see if the clock would accept it more easily. Fused loops were a lot stranger, attempts to either use a piece were it totally didn't belong or weld two piece together and see what would come out of it.

Loop memories were then like the provenance of the utilized part, showing you when it had been crafted and by whom.

Pocket? Ping? Sorry Monroe, there just wasn't any way to explain those with hands, cogs and rubies.

"My shift at the precinct starts in two hours." finally concluded Nick, checking his watch as he rose from his chair. "You're up for breakfast?"

"Donuts at Joe's Dinner?" asked Monroe with a smile.

"Sure, my treat." answered his Anchor, beaming back.

In the end, the entire explanation had taken almost two hours of traded questions and answers between the two friends. The currently-a-Grimm _wesen_ was properly flabbergasted with the situation, yet happy that his friend wouldn't have to remain alone anymore. The currently-a- _wesen_ Grimm was equally relieved to finally have a friend with him, even if he would only show up sporadically.

The branch had just become that much more bearable.

* * *

06 – Coworkers

* * *

Nick Burkhardt was so used to his loop by now, that he could almost always identify a Variant by a mere glimpse of a situation. It wasn't perfect, but his instincts were right in nine cases out of ten. The murder weapon being unusual was a pretty good gave away, and so was a total absence of murder.

The present day was engraved in his mind as the one where an innocent _wesen_ suffered once more from the cruelty and greed of their flawed society and morals. In every loop, young Peter Bennett died simply because of what he was, a Willahara.

Those bunny-like _wesen_ were extremely peaceful. Nothing in them would ever identify them as valuable prey for other _wesen_. Well, nothing but their feet.

As fucked up as it seemed, their severed _woged_ paws acted as a placebo aphrodisiac to other _wesen_ once placed under the conjugal bed. It was a good luck charm, supposed to enhance the couple's fertility.

Because of this stupid legend, the young boy always ended up dead and one foot short, a small distance from his house. An innocent nightly escapade to see his girlfriend turned up to be deadly when a Vulpesmyrca showed up to sprung a trap on him.

Those fox-like _wesen,_ cousins to the Fuchsbau, were formidable hunters. Cunning, strong enough to rival a Grimm, and not shying away from modern technology, they stopped at nothing to get to their prey.

What had changed this time? Why hadn't the boy be killed? Why wasn't the family targeted?

The answer may very well lie in the two pings he had felt a couple of days ago. It was entirely possible for a looper to have either replaced or interacted with either the murderer or the Bennett family.

It was time for the Portland PD to pay them a little routine visit.

* * *

"Please Detective, make yourself at home." pleasantly said Mme Bennett, gesturing at the living room. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I would love to, but that survey won't answer itself I'm afraid. I'll quickly interview your children

and be on my way."

"I see, what a shame." she replied, walking toward a flight of stairs. "My son Peter's out at the moment, but you can always talk to my daughter. Judy!"

Nick had to contain a victorious "I knew it!" at hearing the girl's name. The baseline daughter was named Chloe, this Judy had to be a visiting looper.

"What is it mom?"

"Come down please, a policeman wants to ask you a few questions."

"Huh, if you don't mind…" interfered Nick. "I'd rather go upstairs myself. Answering that survey can be rather embarrassing for teenagers, especially girls. I'm afraid your presence would only bother your daughter."

"Oh…" sighed the woman, understanding the probable nature of the totally imaginary survey. "Wouldn't one of your female colleague be more suited for such an inquiry then?"

"Most assuredly, yes, but my boss is a sadist." explained the Grimm, scratching his head awkwardly. "I think he likes to watch me get uncomfortable. But hey, he's my boss so I don't really have a choice."

The Bennett matriarch had previously checked the man's ID, and could see the truth in his words.

"Well… good luck then." she said with a tired smile, before once more calling up the stairs.

"Judy, Detective Burkhardt is coming up."

"But, mom... I'm with a friend and..."

The mother showed momentary surprise, apparently unaware of housing a guest.

Nick decided to prevent any drama and talked to the girl himself.

"I'm sure your friend won't mind me taking a few minutes of your time for this survey, miss Bennett. It is official Portland PD material, destined to help our city's teenagers in their everyday lives. The results will assist those few who feel a bit loopy and need to be anchored properly."

If his suspicions proved correct, she would understand.

His enhanced Grimm hearing faintly picked a hushed exchange between the girl and her mysterious guest, whose voice was definitely way to low to be female. The exact content was too blurry, but he could swear that he'd heard Anchor and looper somewhere in there.

A weak and slightly weary "Fine, I'll do it." finally reached the first floor.

"Thank you sweetheart." beamed her mother. "I hope your room is clean."

"MOM!"

Nick smothered a grin and walked past the woman, taking the stairs.

Reaching the second floor, the Anchor got his first glimpse of the young girl he was supposedly here to interview on things he definitely didn't want to.

Fifteen years old, maybe sixteen, with a fair figure and hypnotizing violet eyes. She was dressed in jeans, a blue shirt, and had long light-brown hair – which weirdly enough appeared greyish in the sunlight – held in two braids around her head.

"Detective." she said with a small acknowledging nod, immediately followed by a gesture toward an open door. "Come in please."

"Thank you." replied the Grimm, nodding back.

He'd barely stepped into the room when she closed the door behind him and asked the question he'd expected.

"So, you're a looper?"

"Anchor, actually." he smiled, presenting his opened hand. "Detective Nick Burkhardt. Welcome to the Grimm loops, miss…?"

"Officer Judy Hopps, Anchor for Zootopia." she introduced herself, accepting the handshake.

"And your friend?" asked Nick, pointing his thumb at the man in a shadowy corner of the room.

"Officer Nick Wilde." replied the other looper, a redhead guy wearing light-brown baggy pants, a green shirt and a loose tie. "Her partner."

"And a Vulpesmyrca, if I'm not mistaking."

The _wesen_ looked at the Detective and _woged_. His face bloomed into a foxy grin when he saw the Detective's black eyes.

"So, you're a Grimm."

"You are?" asked a surprised Judy, herself _woging_ in her Willahara form.

"Calm down Carrots, he's the one who helped the _wesen_ community around Portland for the past three years. Must be tough to deal with this on top of your standard duty." said Nick Wilde, musing over the complexity of such a task.

"Dealing with Night Howlers is hard enough." added Judy. "I wouldn't want to be in your place."

"I manage." shrugged Nick. "Now, I don't want to worry Mme. Bennet, so I'll be quick. We're currently the only Awake loopers around. I can handle the loop myself, it won't last that much longer, but help is always welcome. So, do you want to treat this as a vacation, or do you want to help?"

The visiting officers exchanged a quick glance, a nod, and a smile. With matching moves, they snatched sunglasses from midair, just as police hats dropped on their heads.

"Where do we begin, Detective?"

* * *

07 – Loot

* * *

Nick had just stopped his assailant, a reaper sent by the royal family, using his ancestors' favored technique: he'd stolen the guy's scythe during the fight and used it on the owner's neck.

The Grimm had barely dropped the weapon when the strange window he'd grown accustomed too in this unusual Variant appeared before him, hovering in midair like a weird hologram.

* * *

 **In** **the reaper's corpse, you find...**

• a polished dagger of the hawk

• a dice

• a volume titled "Sea Monster Taming, First Edition"

• a lantern

• an ordinary lockpick

• **Stiltadarnius, the Legendary Banished Mirror**

• a dimensional halberd of gravity

• a tarnished key

• a scroll of agony

• a book titled "Repeating Crossbow History"

• a pile of 244 assorted coins of gold and platinum

* * *

The Anchor sighed and retrieved the aforementioned equipment from around the headless corpse.

Some Variants were weird, but that loot loop was on a whole new level. Still, it helped him gather useful material and interesting books, so he couldn't really complain.

That he had to buy another trailer, simply to store all the useless or extremely dangerous stuff – who in their right mind created a vial of vomit lava anyway? – was quite annoying though.

* * *

01 - Home, sweet home.

02 - That time working with the Winchesters has clearly affected Nick. Poor him.

03 - Please, wear protective headgear.

04 - What a noble goal. Good luck with that, Nick.

05 - Welcome to the loops, Monroe. I hope you'll stay sane.

06 - A fox, a bunny and a Grimm walk in a police station...

07 - A Grimm-style roleplaying game? I'm so playing this.


End file.
